


Fade Out The Line

by Maka (JanaTearce)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 15:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanaTearce/pseuds/Maka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little something about Malik and Kadar and they can use magic. Altair is there for like three sentences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fade Out The Line

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, I just wanted to write something pretty about Kadar being an ice mage. I don't even know where this was supposed to go. Writing practice?? Kadar's warm because it helps him not die from internally freezing from his powers, that's why he's a living hot-water-bottle. Malik appreciates that in many ways.

In Kadar's hand ice was as alive as a fire cracking in an open hearth. It danced and twisted, and it pulsed with deadly spikes - or soft and flat, its edges rounded, as if alive and only coaxed into behaving because it was seemingly fond of Kadar. Sometimes Malik was sure to have heard it purr. Even the ice flowers on his palms seemed alive, receding under the touch of skin and hardening when meeting the kiss of a blade. In short it could be said it was easy as breathing for Kadar, the ice seemingly no more than extension to himself.

A cold extension that Malik now found creeping around his wrist, like fingers seeking to wrap around his arm. His brother was breathing, shallow and it would have almost gone unnoticed if it weren't for the ice. It quietly cracked with each heave of Kadar's chest, crawling – no, growing from ever gash as if in a desperate attempt to heal. His blood had stained it milky red.

Even as Malik opened his eyes to watch Kadar as he slept by his side, his own ragged breath seemed to echo in his ears. The image of the jagged edges impaling each templar wouldn't leave his mind. He'd been captivated by their blood trickling down the curves and spirals, over edges and through gaps in the ice. And in the midst of it all, neatly wrapped in a protective arc was The Ark of the Covenant.

Not a smear of red on its glistening gold.

Don't dream.

Don't dream, was what Malik had been telling himself for at least two weeks now. Though it seemed he would have to give up on sleep entirely for that to happen.

Kadar breathed and made himself comfortable, hugging Malik's arm. Where skin touched skin the soft cracking of ice could he heard as it flooded and receded from Kadar's warm touch. 

Malik wouldn't call it a nightmare. He hadn't had those since he had been nine, or so he liked to tell himself, because from then on of course it had always been Kadar in need of hugs from his brave older brother. That he couldn't sleep had of course been a coincidence those nights.

Malik wouldn't call it a nightmare, despite the fact that it haunted him and featured a young man who resembled his own brother way too much.

Malik wouldn't call it a nightmare, but he found sleeping hard. Now that the Animus had burnt this image into his head.

What a fool he had been to agree.

* * *

Exposure had only ever once been a fear in Kadar's life and that had been at the age of ten when he had accidentally frozen something in public. Wide eyed and full of fear, he'd come running, hiding behind Malik as if that would spare him the lecture.

Malik would have gladly take the blame, he remembered that much, but he couldn't remember what the incident had been about. But with how different their powers were, it had been clear which one of them had fucked up.

Their father had done a good job at training them to appear normal. He hadn't done a good job at teaching them how to use their powers. Not that he would have known being _normal_. Yet Malik begrudged him that he hadn't even tried, that he had assumed they were fine, just because for Kadar it was all as easy as breathing and Malik, well Malik had started keeping an arms length between himself and everyone else, just so he wouldn't accidentally zap anyone.

Some book he'd read a long time ago had told him thunder would instil fear in others because it seemed like the wrath of God to humanity. A thought which he was only starting to get comfortable with as an adult. As a child he had never meant to instil fear in anybody, however seeing how stupid humanity could get at times… It would be needless to say, he liked playing wrathful God from time to time.

Needless to say he like to zap Altaïr.

Altaïr never seemed to see it coming, or wondered where it would be coming from. Or so it had seemed until he'd grabbed Malik's arm and held on tight not allowing him to let go.

“I don't know why, but when I'm around you it always feels like a storm is coming up.”

Unblinking Malik stared at Altaïr, wondering whether or not he should snarl a comment, be perplexed or just pretend nothing had been said. He had decided to growl at Altaïr and pull his arm away.

When he had told Kadar about the incident, his brother had pushed himself up into his face and said, “maybe we should tell him.” Malik had wrinkled his nose and mouthed a grumpy “no.” Kadar hadn't replied, just kissed him, just smiled knowingly and gazed at him with those clear, blue eyes of his that seemed to hold the secrets of the world. Not literally though, Kadar held no interest in keeping secrets if it wasn't for his own benefit. He liked collecting them though, as Malik had found out.

Though what was to make of that, that Malik could be considered one of them.


End file.
